


I Don't Want to Set the World On Fire

by whatthestoriesneversay (ashesandhalefire)



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashesandhalefire/pseuds/whatthestoriesneversay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You already have the dress on,” he replies. “Every dress deserves at least one good dance.”</p>
<p>“True.” Bolin nods, and even Pabu squeaks in agreement. “Totally true.”</p>
<p>“Stop encouraging him!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by (chi-blocker.tumblr.com/post/20999509323).
> 
> Cross-posted from tumblr.

She nearly stomps on Pabu’s back in her rage as she bursts through the door to the brothers’ apartment, tossing her shoes angrily against the side of the couch. The ferret hisses and scurries beneath the hem of her skirt, coming out the other side and rushing for the open door. As Bolin enters, the animal excitedly tries to clamber up the leg of his pants, only to slip off the expensive material and plop back onto the floor. 

“That is the last time we’re doing that,” Korra snarls, pulling a handful of bobby pins out of the tangled mess of her curls and slapping them down onto the kitchen counter. “And remind me to strangle Jinora when I get home. It’s going to take me weeks to comb out this rat’s nest.”

“I thought it looked nice,” Bolin says, bending to scoop the ferret off the ground and cradling him in the crook of his elbow. He nuzzles his nose against the animal’s head before letting it crawl up onto his shoulders, and Pabu’s small eyes follow excitedly as Korra continues to dismantle the ornate cluster of hair on top of her head. “Pabu likes it too.”

“Pabu’s hoping he can eat it,” Mako corrects, kicking the door shut with his foot. “You haven’t fed him in almost four hours. He’s ravenous.” 

Korra huffs, stalking across the open apartment. “I put on a dress for these people. A dress. Me!” Flopping down onto the well-worn couch, she unhooks a thick bracelet from her wrist and begins searching for the clasp to her thin necklace. “I let Jinora and Ikki treat me like a giant doll for hours just to look presentable like they wanted. And what do I get for it?”

“Sponsors.” She glares at him, but Mako only shrugs as he unbuttons his jacket. “Sponsors are important, Korra. They keep the team going. But it’s all about perception with them. If they like what they see, they give us money.”

“Well, obviously they don’t like me,” she says, giving up on the elusive jewelry and crossing her arms. “They like this stupid, dolled-up, fake version of me, and they like laughing at me when the real me does things wrong because nobody on earth could possibly know which fork to use where there are, like, thirty of them sitting in front of you, and they most definitely do not like me.”

“Who cares what they think? Those uppity jerks are the worst part of pro-bending.” Bolin pulls the tie from around his neck and tosses it onto a pile of dirty clothes beside the hamper. “You think I like dressing up in this monkey suit? I put on the fancy pants, I dance with a few girls, I chat up some rich guys, and I make Mako happy. Isn't that right, bro?”

Mako nods. “Essentially. Besides, it’s only one night a month.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like it.”

“You should have danced with someone,” Bolin advises. “I know my brother makes brooding on the sidelines look attractive, but it really is more fun when you dance.”

“You mean it gives the rich stuffed-shirts a chance to judge professional athletes on their ability to dance.” She points at Mako. “It’s not our faults that we can’t parade around as nicely as the Badger Moles.”

Bolin snorts. “Oh, Mako can dance. He just chooses not to.”

“What?”

Mako shrugs.

“No way,” she laughs. “I don’t believe it. Mister We-have-no-time-for-this-silly-nonsense?”

Mako raises an eyebrow.

“Oh,” Bolin laughs, clapping a hand against his knee. “You’re asking for it now, Korra.”

She scoffs, but the earthbender points at his brother and Korra notices Mako taking careful steps towards something buried in the corner of the room. He pulls a sheet off what she always assumed was a stack of junk, revealing an ancient phonograph. It lacks all of the shine of the ones she’s seen around town in store windows, but Mako seems undaunted as he pulls a paper-wrapped record from the cabinet and places it on the deck. Jerking her thumb at him, Korra casts a desperate look at Bolin. 

“He’s not seriously going to—”

The music starts, and Bolin grins. “Classic.”

The song is slow and brassy, and there’s a foggy quality to it that makes her swoon somewhere inside, but mostly she’s just confused. Mako looks pleased with himself, and Bolin looks absurdly smug as he sticks his hands in his pockets and slips onto a stool at the counter, and she blinks awkwardly until Mako steps forward and pulls her off the couch, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Wha—”

“Come on now, Avatar Korra,” he teases quietly, taking her hand in his. “Don’t tell me you’re a stranger to the slow dance.”

She absolutely hates that her breath kind of catches in her throat, that her stomach flutters as his palm presses warmly against hers. But that’s how she spends most of her time around Mako. She hates how absolutely inferior he makes her feel sometimes, how desperate she gets to impress him, and it’s being made all the worse by how disgustingly un-Mako he’s acting at the moment. 

It doesn't take a genius to figure out how desperately awkward he is when it comes to socializing. She’s been his teammate for weeks now, and she’s still only seen him hold decent conversations with Bolin and Toza. His younger brother is charismatic and sociable, and Korra likes to consider herself the same, but Mako is reserved and incapable of saying the right words to match his intentions, and suddenly he’s cool and suave and collected and dancing. 

If she’s being totally honest with herself, mostly she hates that holding her against his chest doesn't appear to resonate with him at all. Korra doesn't consider herself bad at flirting—she’s simply out of practice—but she remembers enough to know that being this close to the object of one’s affection should be worth at least a sweaty palm.

But Mako’s hands are smooth against hers as he begins guiding her around the room.

“What exactly are we doing?” 

“You already have the dress on,” he replies. “Every dress deserves at least one good dance.”

“True.” Bolin nods, and even Pabu squeaks in agreement. “Totally true.”

“Stop encouraging him!”

She stumbles around the room with him for a few steps before grudgingly admitting that he clearly knows what he’s doing, Bolin laughing at her all the while as she struggles to keep up.

“This is ridiculous,” she finally mutters, glancing down at their colliding feet. “I wasn't made to dance. I was made to fight. My feet are genetically opposed to dancing. They prefer kicking ass.”

Mako shakes his head, letting go of her hand briefly to grab at her chin and force her gaze back at him. “Of course. Because doing both would be entirely impossible. Now stop thinking about it.”

“I’m not used to this Mako,” she says, allowing their hands to tangle once again. When his eyes widen, she realizes too late that she has once again managed to talk to her way into a corner. She may be out of practice, but she’s fairly certain the rules of flirting having changed that much. Telling someone that their display of self-confidence is unnerving hardly seems like a compliment. “You’re being way too nice to me.”

“I can be nice.” He sounds offended, and she can’t blame him, but she still offers only an over-exaggerated sigh in place of an apology.

“Not to me.”

“Am I not nice to you?”

She accidentally steps on his foot. “You’re nice enough. But you've never been quite so…open.”

“Open?”

“Open.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your zipper is probably down,” his brother says, and Mako rolls his eyes. 

“It means you usually have the social skills of a platypus-bear,” she mutters under her breath. 

If he hears her, his only response is to splay a hand across her back and lower her into a dip that causes her to clench her grip on his shoulder. He lifts her up again so slowly that she wonders how the song hasn’t already ended by the time she’s standing straight, and she’s so engrossed in the smug look on his face that she barely notices Bolin hoisting Pabu into the air and twirling him around the living room with a hand cupped under his belly.

“Show off,” she accuses, and Mako shrugs slightly. That’s when her eyes narrow and she finds herself focusing intently on his gaze, seemingly sparkling with a challenge.

She’s naturally competitive, naturally desperate to prove that she’s just as good, if not better, but dancing is something that doesn't seem to come easily to her—not that that stops her. She straightens her back and squares her shoulders, and Mako trips slightly when she takes a step without him. 

“You know, you’re supposed to let him lead,” Bolin teases, and Korra sticks her tongue out at him over Mako’s shoulder, slowing her pace until their steps are in sync once again. 

“This is Korra we’re talking about.” Mako stares down at her and the corners of his mouth pull up slightly. His voice is low, like his words belong only to her. “I didn't stand a chance.”

Korra feels warmth flush from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and she trails her fingertips along the base of his neck, toying with the collar of his shirt. Then she pinches his skin firmly.

“Shut up!”

To her surprise, Mako grins suddenly and swings her into a slow twirl beneath his arm. Her hand curls against his chest when he gathers her close again, and she stares up at him as they sway. Bolin clears his throat lightly, and Korra tears her eyes away from one of Mako’s rare smiles to glance at his brother’s outstretched hand.

“Might I cut in?”

Mako pulls her tight to his stomach once again, his lips very nearly grazing her forehead, before gently spinning her into Bolin’s arms, and Korra settles against him with a wrinkle of her nose. 

“Of course you may, sir,” she says stuffily, straightening her back once more. Bolin snorts, and they dissolve into a sloppy imitation of her dance with his brother. Their steps are easier, more fluid and less colored by her nerves, and she finds herself laughing loudly as Bolin spins them rapidly around the apartment, her feet barely able to keep up with his. 

He sings loudly along with the record, making up the words or muttering sounds when he doesn't have time to figure them out, and Mako rolls his eyes and stifles a chuckle as he strokes the fur behind Pabu’s ears. His brother’s steps are wildly out of time, but he laughs when Korra steps on his feet and it seems as though the misery of the evening has been washed from her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t have much to say.”
> 
> She gets what she’s been looking for when he licks his lips and his eyes dart down to her mouth, but she shows restraint and just barely tilts her head. The hand in his hair knots into a fist.
> 
> “Well, that’s new for you.”
> 
> It makes her smile because it’s pure Mako peeking through again, teasing her when he shouldn’t be, and it just makes her want to kiss him more. 
> 
> “You’re an idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-posted from tumblr.

The final note of the song rings in the apartment, and Korra catches Mako’s eye, smiling slightly and holding out her hand behind Bolin’s back. The firebender shakes his head, easing his fingers over Pabu’s shoulders, and Korra juts her hand out more firmly.

“Come on, Mister Hat Trick. It’s your turn again. I’ve had practice. Bring it on.”

He shakes his head again as Bolin spins to face him. “You two did fine. At least you let him lead.”

“Oh, no, bro. It’s only fair to share the foot-trodding.”

Korra huffs indignantly as Bolin spins her out into the middle of the room, sticking out her tongue when she finally stumbles to a stop. He returns the gesture, adding a wrinkle of his nose, and then turns, hoisting his brother off his seat by the waist. Korra snorts lightly as Bolin ignores Mako’s yelp of surprise, plopping him down in front of her. The earthbender darts across the room to replace the needle, and Korra pulls Mako’s arm around her waist once again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be extra careful. I know how delicate your toes are.”

“I’m not worried,” he promises, and Korra flexes her fingers around his.

She wants to say something witty—along the lines of “Maybe you should be”—but he offers her a lopsided smile and she momentarily forgets how to be appropriately snarky. 

From that point on, their second dance is quiet.

Korra manages to avoid stepping on his feet, and Mako nods his head as she eases her arm to rest along the firm line of his shoulder. Her fingertips sloppily trace the air nomad symbol onto his back and she can’t help searching his face for any hint of a blush that she’s sure is already coloring her own cheeks, but he’s still oddly calm.

She hates how easy she suddenly finds it to get lost in his eyes.

Somewhere along the line, Bolin retreats into his bedroom with Pabu and there’s nobody left to restart the record when it inevitably finishes, but Korra hears Mako just barely humming under his breath and she doesn’t feel particularly inclined to let go of him. Instead, she tucks her head beneath his chin and allows her body to sway in time with his as she waits anxiously for the telltale notes of the end.

One of his arms is wrapped snugly around her and the other is tangled with hers somewhere between their bodies, and Korra finds herself having the overwhelming desire to bend reality, to rewind time and drag Mako onto the dance floor when her hair was still a neat crown on her head and when her shoes would have nearly leveled her mouth with his and when the girls who had been eyeing him all night could have watched. 

But she isn’t entirely opposed to staying exactly where she is either, and suddenly she feels all the exhaustion from the day seeping into her bones as she allows herself to lean on him. The early morning airbending practice sags her shoulders and the mid-afternoon waterbending weakens her neck and the partying leaves her dizzy.

Yes, the party, she assures herself, Mako’s cheek resting against the top of her head. She’s the avatar. She doesn’t need boys or dresses—definitely not dresses—or dance lessons to make her whole. But, she admits, the firebender’s hand hot against her back, that she certainly wouldn’t complain if this particular boy decided he wanted to be hers.

The song ends with a flourish, and the only sound left is Mako’s humming. She feels like she should say something, affirm that she’s paying attention, but her brain feels muddled and the result is less than ideal.

“The lyrics are absurd, you know,” she mumbles into his chest.

One of his hands comes up to sweep the hair away from her bare shoulder, and he hums thoughtfully. 

“Well, not absurd,” she corrects lazily, barely managing to make notice of how they’ve stopped moving around the room, simply swaying from side to side in the middle of the rug. “Just funny.”

His fingertips trail along the exposed skin of her upper back, and he toys with the clasp of her necklace. She ignores the shiver that runs down her spine and the way she feels his breath against the crook of her neck when he speaks. “Oh? Funny in what way?”

“We’re both firebenders.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve nearly burned down the city.”

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Twice now, I believe.”

“Yeah,” she laughs, leaning back to look up at him. “It’s just funny.”

Her eyelids are heavy, and she figures Mako would have to be pretty stupid not to notice that her gaze continues to fall away from his eyes and hang on his lips. She figures she’ll let him have this, let him make the first move, because, after years of being in charge of his brother, Mako is a control freak and she’s going to have plenty of time to get the better of him.

Unfortunately, Mako is also prone to evading situations that begin to edge outside of his comfort zone, and he simply lowers his forehead to hers. “You seem tired.”

“Mm.” Her hand strokes up the back of his neck and tangles into his hair as encouragement. “I’m alright.”

“You’re very quiet.”

“I don’t have much to say.”

She gets what she’s been looking for when he licks his lips and his eyes dart down to her mouth, but she shows restraint and just barely tilts her head. The hand in his hair knots into a fist.

“Well, that’s new for you.”

It makes her smile because it’s pure Mako peeking through again, teasing her when he shouldn’t be, and it just makes her want to kiss him more. 

“You’re an idiot.”

Her nose nudges against his, but the rational side of Mako hesitates a few seconds too long and a loud crash echoes from Bolin’s bedroom just as she feels his neck bend. Korra blinks irately, her grip lessening as Mako pulls back to glance down the hallway, and she drops her arms to her sides with a sigh.

“Pabu!” comes Bolin’s muffled cry. “Get down! Bad ferret!”

When Mako turns back to her, he tucks a wayward curl behind her ear and shrugs. “I love my brother. That’s the only reason I let him keep that stupid animal.”

For a split second, she thinks she could do it anyway. If she went up on her toes and held him still, she could do it. But Mako glances at the clock on the wall and she grudgingly admits to herself that the moment has slipped between her fingers. Korra has never been one to accept defeat easily, but she’s tired and worn—and honestly not all that sure that she was even reading the signs right because she really is out of practice—and she really doesn’t want the background music to be a combination of the phonograph’s awkward clicking and Pabu’s irritated hiss, so she stalks over to the kitchen counter and grabs her hairpins.

“It’s late. Tenzin is gonna freak.”

“I can walk you to the ferry,” he offers softly. She rolls her eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” Muttering, she hoists the skirt of her dress up to her knees as she crosses the room to find her shoes. “Don’t let the costume fool you. I don’t need protection.”

“Not protection.” He fastens the buttons on his jacket and pinches her bracelet off the table, nimbly hooking it around her wrist as she tries to dart through the door without him. “Just company.”

She rubs at the spot where his fingertips brushed her skin. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Pabu!” Her ear catches another of Bolin’s cries, and she sets her jaw.

“You know what? I’ll meet you outside. I’m gonna go say goodnight to your brother.”

Mako nods. “Alright.” She watches him go down the stairs, easing a hand through his hair as he walks, and then she turns with fire already rumbling in her chest. Her feet slap against the ground as she stalks down the hallway, her hands curling into fists.

Bursting into Bolin’s room, she glowers at the surprised earthbender as he teeters on the edge of a chair, desperately swiping at a shelf where a shivering Pabu has perched himself. 

“Dead,” she snarls, pointing at him. “You’re so dead. Tomorrow. You and me. Spar. To the death.”

“What?”

“Not you,” she snaps. “The ferret. I’m gonna kill him. You and me, buddy! It is on.”

Bolin raises an eyebrow. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m totally _fine_. Your brother is going to walk me to the ferry and I’m going to go home and take this stupid dress off, and then I’m going to get a good night’s sleep and come back and make a nice little fur hat for Meelo.”

The ferret hisses again, and Bolin sighs, hopping down onto the floor. 

“He chickened out, huh? Man, I thought the music would do it for sure. There was eye contact, and you were all up in his face…” He snaps his fingers. “Is it because you’re a terrible dancer? Did you kill the mood?”

She grits her teeth and exhales a puff of smoke.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there! It was a joke.”

“It wasn’t funny. Your stupid pet—” Pabu lets out an indignant squeak and takes a flying leap off the shelf, landing on Bolin’s bed with a flop before disappearing behind the headboard. “Yeah, you’d _better_ hide!”

Bolin nudges her back out into the hallway. “Quit threatening a tiny little ferret and go walk to the ferry with my brother. All hope is not lost. The city is very romantic at night.”

“Shut up.”

He smirks as he begins to close his door. “Night, Twinkletoes.”

She slams her fist against the wood and snarls, “You know, I’d earthbend you to the ceiling if it’d stick!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako doesn’t say anything more, but the ferry comes into view as they turn a corner and Korra drops to her feet, stretching a hand to ruffle his hair.
> 
> “Good firebender.”
> 
> He raises an eyebrow as she continues ahead of him, flicking her foot out to clear a rubble-free path across the street with a neat ripple of the ground.
> 
> “What,” he drawls, scuffing his shoe on the curb as he follows, “I don’t get a treat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-posted from tumblr.

The moment she steps out of the stadium door, it seems like the spell has been broken entirely. Mako has his hands tucked into his pockets and ducks his head as they walk, and the cool breeze in her face refreshes her energy enough that she shields him from the spray of a Satomobile in the road with a flick of her wrist.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

She throws the stream of water after the car. “Jerks. It’s like people intentionally drive through puddles.”

“They do,” he says, his feet following the thin crack in the cement of the sidewalk, and Korra tilts her head. He’s walking in front of her, without her, and she wonders why he even bothered.

The lights from the arena fade as they turn a corner, and Korra runs her tongue across her teeth as she tries to think of something to say. “So…” She swings her shoes through the air and sidesteps a broken bottle. 

“Careful,” he cautions, holding out an arm. She walks straight into it and grunts. “There could be glass—”

“I’m fine.” She wiggles her toes, rubbing the spot on her chest where his elbow caught her, and then clicks her tongue thoughtfully. “Unless, of course, you were offering to carry me, in which case…I accept.”

He stops. “You’d let me _carry_ you? You’d let someone see you being carried?”

“On your back? Sure,” she shrugs, offering a small smirk. “It’s just like getting a ride on Naga.”

He rolls his eyes but turns his back to her and hunches forward. 

“Really?” She jumps on before he can answer, nearly catching his cheek with the heel of her shoe. He hooks his hands under her knees and sighs, continuing down the street.

“It’s easier than trying to convince you to put on your shoes. Besides, I’d rather suffer the indignity of being treated like your pet for a few minutes than suffer the humiliation of forfeiting a match because my waterbender has an infected cut on her foot and can’t stand.”

She bites back a smile and nods seriously. “Of course. Thank you for looking out for me.” He makes it another three steps before she rests her chin on his shoulder and begins to laugh. “After all, these are also my dancing feet.”

“That would be no great loss.”

She gasps dramatically. “Don’t you dare. I got better. I’m the avatar. There’s nothing I can’t do.” He scoffs. “So…since when do you dance?”

He jostles her on his back, hoisting her a bit higher and adjusting his grip on her legs. “My mother and father used to— Apparently I inherited the skill.”

She presses her cheek against his neck. “That’s sweet.”

“Agility training didn’t hurt either.”

“Did you just try to make a joke?”

“It’s been known to happen occasionally.”

She smiles, noting that he smells faintly of cologne just behind the ears. “Hm. We’ll pretend that’s true. Should the sponsors be offended that you’re such an excellent dancer and yet you hoarded these skills all night long?”

Mako shrugs, and she feels his hands tighten around the curves of her legs. “Bolin and I don’t have much left of our parents. Some things are just better kept private.”

She bites her tongue. Loss is something still very foreign to her, so she squeezes her arms around his shoulders and she hopes it translates properly. Mako doesn’t say anything more, but the ferry comes into view as they turn a corner and Korra drops to her feet, stretching a hand to ruffle his hair.

“Good firebender.”

He raises an eyebrow as she continues ahead of him, flicking her foot out to clear a rubble-free path across the street with a neat ripple of the ground.

“What,” he drawls, scuffing his shoe on the curb as he follows, “I don’t get a treat?”

She peeks over her shoulder with a smirk. “Must have left them in my other pants.”

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“Thanks for rubbing it in.”

He lets out a soft chuckle.

“I heard that.”

“You know, I’m not nearly as stuffy as you make me out to be.”

She stops at the edge of the pier and waits for him to catch up, deciding to give him one last chance.

“Prove it,” she challenges. 

“Wait for practice tomorrow.”

Mako never did like making things easy for her.

“Aye-aye, captain.”

He watches her trudge up the ramp and lifts a hand in an awkward wave before turning to walk away, and Korra feels her feet moving before she realizes that she’s left the deck of the ferry again. She darts down the gangplank and hooks her fingers into Mako’s elbow, yanking him around.

“Wait a minute.”

He swallows. “Problem?”

“You danced with me,” she says, pushing a hand flat against his chest.

He raises an eyebrow, peering down at her. “Yes.”

“You said dancing was private,” she accuses, lifting her chin defiantly. He blinks, looping his fingers around her wrist as she grips onto his tie. His eyes dart down to her fist before he returns her stare, licking his lips.

“And…you’re offended by this?”

She pauses. “N-no.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

She stares up at him. 

Korra knows a few things about Mako. 

Mako appreciates being alone. He doesn’t like to go out and celebrate after matches. He prefers the quite of the apartment. But Mako is also very bad at being alone, because he’s never really been alone. Private to Tenzin is locked away in his study for an hour or two. Private to Mako is Bolin. And she realizes that at some point _Bolin and Mako_ became _Bolin and Mako and Korra_. 

She’s never had that before. First it was _Korra and Master Katara_ and then it was _Korra and Sifu What’sHisFace_ and then _Korra and What’sHisName_. The closest thing she’s really ever had is _Korra and Naga_ , but Naga doesn’t look at her like Mako does and she wants that. She wants to figure out how to bottle it and keep it somewhere safe so she never loses it.

“Korra?”

“Nothing,” she says hurriedly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

His eyes are on her lips again, but he’s lost the chance and now it’s her move. She plans to make him wait, to pull her punches and let it happen when he’s least expecting it—just like he taught her.

“See you at practice tomorrow.” She grins and punches his arm before turning back to the ferry, thinking she might just let Pabu live a little longer.


End file.
